by Anna Wright I was born and grew up, on and off, in London. Throughout my teenage years I was aware of an annual event called “The Notting Hill Carnival” that took place on the last weekend of August. I knew it to be a very dangerous event. People got stabbed there. There were violent riots. No one was safe. I knew this because the BBC told me so. I saw images of police being attacked and arrests being made. So I was astonished when, at the age of 21, my first serious boyfriend announced that he was “excited” about us going to “Carnival” together. I questioned his sanity. He laughed at my irrational fears and assured me that it was the safest event on earth, full of love and joy. Holding his hand tightly, I embarked on my first Carnival. He was right. It was incredible. I danced, I laughed, I loved and I felt loved. It was the greatest celebration of humanity I had ever known... until recently.
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